Always Running
by Alexannah
Summary: NEW CHAPTER UP! Fantasyverse. Buffy, after four years of struggling to provide for her family, takes an opportunity to turn her life around and starts working with Spike at AI. But what if her past catches up with her? SpikeBuffy – more summary inside
1. Prologue: Wrecked

**Summary:** When investigating a dodgy casino, the last thing Angel Investigations expects to find is the perfect employee. Buffy Summers was once a detective, now on the run, and soon settles into a new life working at the agency. But what happens if her past catches up with her?

**Rating/Warnings:** M for adult content (sexual/abuse/incest/mental illness) – themes and discussion (nothing actually "on-screen")

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters or situations, just the plot.

**Author's note:** This is a fantasy fic, by the way. Meaning no slayers, no vampires, no magic.

* * *

**Always Running**

by Alexannah

**Prologue: Wrecked**

_Sunnydale, 1997_

The atmosphere in the Summers' house had been tense all week. Buffy was struggling to deal with everything that had happened over the past few days. Dawn was quietly seething at Buffy for being the reason the family had broken up, even if she did not understand why. And Joyce wanted to comfort her girls, but had no idea what she could possibly say to make it all better.

Saturday morning came. Joyce made pancakes and the three of them ate in almost silence. After breakfast, Dawn watched her mother begin to take down the family photos from the living room walls.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

Joyce smiled sadly. "I think it's time we had a new family portrait taken." She hesitated. "Just of the three of us."

"That doesn't mean you have to get rid of all the others!"

"I'm not getting rid of them, I'm putting them into storage in the attic."

"Still, you might as well be burning them. No-one's going to see them up there."

"Dawn, honey, that is rather the point."

Dawn jumped to her feet in anger. "How come I don't get a say in any of this? I'm eleven, not three!"

"Because," her mother snapped, "you're too young to understand and I thank goodness for that fact. Now either go and sulk in your room, or help me down here."

Buffy just stood in the corner and watched as her little sister stormed off upstairs. In a way, she envied Dawn. She had no idea of the horror that had been happening right under her and their parents' noses, no idea of the reason _why_ Buffy spent so many hours a week learning self-defence. Why she had such a desire to see the bad guys where they belonged.

She sighed, and turned on the news.

"… And the two-week-old body has been identified as Mayor Hudson," the news reporter was saying. Buffy stopped breathing. "The police are at this moment I believe viewing security footage from his office at the estimated time of death …"

Buffy zoned out. It was okay. She was okay. She would be fine. They hadn't mentioned any suspects, right?

But if they could recognise her on the footage …

They couldn't. She had been too careful.

"The police have just named a suspect," the reporter said, and Buffy started shaking.

"Honey, are you all right?" Joyce asked. Buffy jumped, having almost forgotten her mother was in the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just trying to watch this."

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief as the reporter continued, "Richard Wilkins III. Hudson's long-standing political rival."

It was okay. No one suspected her.

Wait a minute …

"Mr. Trick," the reporter said to a man on the television. "As Mr. Wilkins' representative, what does he have to say for himself?"

"Representative?" Buffy whispered. "He's no representative!"

"Well," was the reply, "naturally, Mr. Wilkins denies any involvement, and as he told the police, he has several alibis. Mr. Hudson may have been a rival in politics but he was a dear friend to Mr. Wilkins. We are working _very_ closely with the police to find out who committed this ghastly crime."

Buffy jumped up from the sofa and ran upstairs into her room. Once inside, she snapped the door shut and leant against it, gasping for breath.

_I've been set up_, she realised in horror. _Mr. Trick was working for Wilkins all along! They just wanted Hudson out the way!_

She was in big trouble. They were bound to find something linking it to her. She had to run for it.

There was no time to think carefully and consider her options. Buffy grabbed a bag and began shoving clothes inside, not even bothering to fold them.

She was gathering up toiletries when Dawn came bursting into the room. "I hate you," she shouted at Buffy. "This is all your fault. I hope you're happy that Dad and – what are you doing?"

"Get out of my way, Dawn." Buffy shoved the last few items into her bag, zipped it up and swung it on her shoulder. "I mean it."

"No!"

The doorbell rang downstairs. Buffy's stomach lurched. It couldn't possibly be the police – could it? "Dawn, get out of the way _now_ or so help me you'll be in the hospital for a month!"

Dawn moved aside so Buffy could leave the room, but it seemed she wasn't going to let her get away that easily. "You've ruined everything," she spat at her sister as Buffy hurried downstairs.

"Buffy, there's a package here for you," Joyce said, at the bottom of the stairs.

"You open it for me," Buffy said, making her way out to the car. Dawn followed.

"We were happy, Buffy! All my friends at school had divorced or single parents but we had it all and now, thanks to you, I've lost half my family!"

"You mean _you_ were happy, Dawn!" Buffy snapped, throwing her bag into the car and walking around to the driver's side. "Have you even considered the fact that _I_ might not have been?"

"That's just selfish!"

"What, because I'd like to _not_ continue my life of living hell? Yeah, I'm really selfish!" Buffy yelled at Dawn. "Now just shut up and let me think!"

She had barely finished her sentence before the house blew up.

Buffy reacted on instinct, grabbing Dawn and pulling her to the ground. The car had mainly sheltered them from the explosion. For a minute or two, they remained frozen, before finally standing and looking at the wreck of their home.

"Mommy," Dawn whispered.

Smoke was pouring from the remains, the front of the house completely gone. It was a sight that would forever be vividly imprinted in Buffy's memory. Later, she would have no idea what went through her mind after the explosion as she searched through the wreckage, calling for her mother, slapping a hysterical Dawn and dragging her into the car, and driving away as fast as she could. Her only coherent thoughts were that it was up to her now, to take Dawn and run; and that nothing would ever be the same.

**TBC …**


	2. Aliases and Faux Pas

**Chapter One: Aliases and Faux Pas**

_Los Angeles, 2001_

"_Brrring!_"

Dawn raised a hand to stop the alarm clock and sat up, bleary-eyed. At only 5:00 a.m., it was still dark outside.

"Buffy," she whispered, shaking her sister next to her. "Wake up."

The pillow muffled whatever Buffy replied with, but Dawn suspected it was something rude. It usually was. She slid out of bed and opened the drawer in the bedside table.

"C'mon, Buffy, wakey wakey." She found three bottles of pills and tipped one out from each.

It was the same routine morning after morning. After several minutes of being stubborn, Buffy was finally persuaded to take the pills. Often it took longer than five minutes. Afterwards, Buffy went back to sleep and Dawn set the alarm for 6:00 a.m.

By this time, the baby was awake and stirring. Dawn hurried over and soothed him. "Shh, little guy; it's okay. Mommy's just taking her medicine. Go back to sleep, Maxie."

He whimpered for a few moments more, then quietened and drifted off again. Dawn climbed back into bed, careful not to disturb her sister, and tried to go back to sleep.

By six, Buffy's medication had kicked in. She was up and ready for work, leaving Dawn and Maxie for the day. She worked in a hotel casino called Lady Luck. Although the majority of the building was ornately furnished in eighteenth-century style, the exception was the staff's quarters. They had the one room between the three of them – one double bed and a cot crammed in. The rent was only just less than the going rate for rooms the same size or smaller, so Buffy didn't complain.

She had plenty of grounds for complaint. The staff were worked far too hard and had expectations forced upon them that would have made Buffy quit long ago, were it not for the fact that no other place she'd found would employ her. She had a family to support, and she had no choice but to stick with it.

During the day, Buffy was usually found serving drinks around the outdoor pool. On occasion, if Dawn and Maxie stayed in their room, she was able to get away to check on them. Often, though, Dawn took her nephew out to the park or the local library – somewhere they could spend time at without having to pay anything. Buffy's heart always ached at not being able to spend time with her son, and guilt preyed on her that her sister was looking after him instead of being at school. But she pushed it all to the back of her mind and focused on her job.

Although she met with the odd client during the day, most of them approached her in the evening. The main attraction of the hotel was its expansive casino. After dinner, Buffy was moved to serve there instead, where most of the guests were.

Guests and clients were usually wealthy middle-aged businessmen, occasionally with their wives or partners. Buffy spotted a gaggle of younger men crowded around the roulette wheel, and she approached them. Before she reached them, one of the men sidled up to Katie, another server, and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. She smiled seductively at him, but a moment later jumped backwards as if she had been burned.

Buffy hurried over as she slapped his hand away from where it had been roving.

"Hey!"

He faced Buffy. "What do _you_ want?"

"Leave her alone," Buffy said, glaring at him.

"Why should I? You're both hookers, aren't you?"

Katie flinched, and Buffy's heart went out to her. She had been doing this for a long time, but Katie was new. It was probably the first time anyone had called her that.

"We're human beings, thank you very much. And if she didn't agree to what you did, then that's sexual assault."

He laughed at her. "Yeah right, like either of you could press charges."

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted from behind her. "Is there a problem?"

Buffy turned to see another young man standing near a sniffling Katie. He was good-looking and in his late twenties, dressed in a finely tailored suit that did not match his gelled platinum blonde hair. Before anyone could answer, he handed Katie a tissue and put an arm around her.

"I'll have you know," he said, addressing the other man icily in an English accent, "that my brother is the CEO of one of the major law firms in L.A., and if I catch you harassing my sisters again I will bloody well sue you for everything you own." He put an arm around Buffy's shoulders as well and led them both away.

"Thanks," said Katie once they were out of earshot. "Who are you?"

"My name's Joel Noble. You?"

"Katie."

"Hannah," said Buffy. "Hey, Katie, why don't you call it a night? I'll cover for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'll see you tomorrow."

Katie nodded. "Okay. And thanks again, Mr. Noble."

"You're welcome."

He and Buffy watched Katie go.

Buffy sighed. "I'm in trouble."

"I'm sure your boss will understand -"

"No, they won't. They don't." Buffy looked back at the party. They seemed slightly more subdued now. As long as they didn't leave, hopefully she could avoid repercussions.

"Well," Joel Noble chuckled, "you seem to be the type of girl that stands up for other people. I like that; I respect that."

He was flirting with her, Buffy realised. Not that that was uncommon, but at least he was younger than most of her clients. Not bad-looking either – his eyes were so blue she felt she could get lost in them. _Whoa_, she told herself. _Quit the romantic crap. He's just another client._

"And you're a quick thinker," Buffy said, beginning to flirt back. "Are you a lawyer too?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm a … poet."

"Wow."

Joel appeared uncomfortable in his suit; he kept fidgeting with it. Just then another guy came along. He was about the same age, maybe a few years older, and had neat dark hair and glasses.

"Ah, Hannah, this is my friend, Roger." The two shook hands, and Roger leaned in to murmur something in Joel's ear.

"Are you sure?" he replied, looking rather stunned.

Roger elbowed him. Joel cleared his throat. "Um, Hannah, would you like to go somewhere a little more …"

"Private?" Buffy supplied. She took a daring step nearer to him. "Would you like to take that suit of yours off?"

His eyes widened slightly, but after a moment he nodded. Buffy slipped a hand into his, bade a goodbye to his friend and led Joel up to the room the hotel let her use on these occasions.

* * *

Buffy hated most of the men she met through her job. On the rare occasion when she found a nice one, she made the most of it. Unfortunately, she was expected to seduce several men a night and so reluctantly let Joel Noble go.

"Just leave the money on the table," she said, hunting around for her underwear.

Joel, who had been in the middle of doing his shirt up, paused. "What?"

"On the dressing-table."

"What money?"

Buffy turned her head to stare at him in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"You're a …" He hesitated on the word.

"Prostitute?" Buffy supplied. "Didn't you realise before? Didn't you hear my little exchange with Katie's harasser downstairs?"

Joel shook his head. "I just saw what he did to her and heard him threatening you."

"Oh. Well, you've still gotta pay." Buffy zipped up her dress. "Ignorance is no excuse."

"I don't pay for sex."

"Tough. And cash, please."

"Didn't you hear me? I said I'm not paying."

Buffy rounded on him. "You've got to, okay? I don't work for myself, you know. My clients don't pay up, I take the rap from my bosses."

"Not my problem, pet."

"You would have me lose my job?" Buffy gaped at him. "After the spectacle downstairs, that's what you would do to me. I thought you were nicer than the others – obviously I was wrong."

"Hannah …" Joel sounded highly uncomfortable, and Buffy knew she had him at breaking point. Just a little further. "Look, you're a nice lady and I'd like to help you, but -"

"I've got a family," Buffy said, delivering the final blow. "A baby. I lose my job, and we're out on the streets."

He swallowed, starting to crumble. "How do I know that you're not just making that up on the spot?"

Buffy gave him a withering look. "You're telling me you didn't see the stretch marks?"

Joel gave in. "All right. _All right_. But this is an absolute one-off. How much?"

"Three hundred dollars."

His mouth fell open. "_How_ much?"

"I don't come cheap."

"Fine. Look, my wallet's in my suit, just take it out yourself. Hell, take all my cash if you feel like it, I don't care. I'm going to take a shower." He retreated to the bathroom, and then poked his head back out. "I'm not going to get charged fifty dollars or something for that, am I?"

"No, the shower's on the house," Buffy said.

"Good." He disappeared, and a moment later Buffy heard the en-suite shower running.

She picked his jacket up from the floor and started hunting through the pockets. It didn't take long to find the wallet, along with a passport and a shopping list. Opening the wallet, she saw a large wad of cash and counted out three hundred dollars.

There was a driving licence inside the wallet as well. Buffy gazed at the photo for a moment. It wasn't a very good one, and had been taken before he had dyed his hair; but even so, Joel Noble looked very handsome in it.

Wait a minute. Buffy frowned. The name on the licence read _William Pratt_.

A lot of men lied about their names at this place. But Joel/William hadn't seemed like the rest. She checked the passport, which had the same identity. The shower was still running, and Buffy felt in the rest of the wallet, only to find several business cards, all the same.

_ANGEL INVESTIGATIONS_, it read, and then in smaller writing, _Detective Agency_, followed by a local address.

This was bad. This was very bad.

Buffy pocketed the cash, before replacing the wallet and hanging the jacket on the door.

The shower stopped, and William Pratt appeared, towelling his hair. "Hi. Would have thought you'd have gone."

"You weren't that long."

"No, guess not." He pulled on his clothes, and Buffy looked in the mirror and started re-applying her lipstick.

"Did you take the money?" he asked.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Three hundred dollars."

He took his wallet out and looked inside, then raised his eyebrows when he saw money still there.

"You know, Hannah," he said softly, "you're too good for this place. I hope you find a way out of here soon."

"So do I," Buffy murmured.

**TBC …**


	3. What's the Password

**Chapter Two: What's the Password?**

Dawn was woken by Maxie starting to cry. Before she could wake up properly, his cries lulled and she saw Buffy, awake and soothing him in her arms.

"You're awake early," Dawn mumbled, sitting up. "What's the time?"

"It's just past six," Buffy replied.

Dawn noticed Buffy was already dressed, in a plain shirt and trousers. "When did you get up? You can't have had much sleep."

"I haven't been to bed."

"What! Why? Today's your morning off. You don't want to spend it catching up on sleep."

"I know, and I can't." Buffy placed the now-quiet Maxie back in his cot. "I did some overtime last night, that's all. It's nothing to worry about."

"You've only ever done overtime if it was something like Christmas or birthday. What's the occasion?"

Buffy sighed. "There was an – incident – last night."

"What kind of incident?"

"It doesn't matter, I'm not in trouble. At least, not after I took on a few extra clients and pretty much bribed my boss to forget the incident."

Dawn studied her sister. "You should have had _some_ sleep. Sleep this morning. We can go out next week."

Buffy shook her head. "I can't. There's something I've got to do."

"What?"

"I – well – I didn't want to worry you -"

"Buffy, _spill_."

"All right!" Buffy threw up her hands in surrender. "But don't panic, okay, 'cause I'm sure it's nothing to worry about -"

"Buffy!"

Buffy took a deep breath. "One of my clients last night was a private detective."

"So?"

"_So_, he lied about his name and what he did. I only found out who he was by accident. And he didn't seem the type to lie for the usual reasons, so there's the possibility that he was on a job."

Dawn paled. "After you, you mean."

"That's the theory." There was a long silence. "Look, Dawn, you and Maxie go out this morning on your own. Go to the library and get a coffee somewhere, whatever. Look." Buffy drew a wad of notes out of her pocket and Dawn's eyes widened. "Here's a few hundred dollars. If anything should happen – well – I know it won't get you far, but it's the best I could do in one night."

"_How_ many extra clients did you take?" Dawn gasped. Buffy had a few hundred from each client, but most of that went to the owners of Lady Luck.

"Dawn. Please. Just take it. I'm going to go and check out the detective office. How do I look?"

Buffy had pinned her hair up and was now donning a woman's suit jacket. Dawn reached up and removed the charity shop label. "Better."

"Do I look like an office worker?"

"Buffy," Dawn pointed out. "It's Sunday."

"I'm sure detectives work every day of the week. It's not like it's a regular office hour job."

"Yeah, but still, there'll be less people around and you'll stick out."

Buffy sighed. "You're right. Okay. Let's go out. But we'll go easy on the money, just in case."

"Agreed. Here, let me take Maxie. You get changed."

Dawn changed and dressed her nephew while Buffy put aside her outfit and slipped on her jeans and a t-shirt. "Okay, I'm ready."

Maxie began to whimper as Buffy picked up her bag. "Oh, no, baby, it's okay."

"That's his hungry cry," Dawn said. "I'll get his bottle."

"Shh," Buffy soothed, rocking Maxie gently as Dawn warmed the milk up. "It's okay, Maxie, Mommy's here."

"Momma."

Buffy and Dawn both froze. A large grin slowly spread across Buffy's face. "Dawn! Did you hear that? His first word!"

"Momma," Maxie repeated, waving his arms.

"Yes, sweetie, I'm here …" Buffy trailed off, her smile fading. Maxie wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Dawn.

"Momma," he said again, reaching out to his aunt.

Buffy wordlessly handed him to Dawn and slid down the wall. "I can't do this anymore."

"Buffy -"

"I'm his mom, Dawn! And he doesn't even know me!"

"That's not true," Dawn said sharply. "He misses you when you're not here."

That was not the right thing to say. Buffy buried her head in her hands. "That's my point. I'm never around him. He thinks you're his mommy."

"That's not your fault -"

"But it is! I'm the reason we have to live like this. I screwed up my life and dragged you into it, and then Maxie. I'm never here because I have to work, and so you're taking care of my baby when you should be at school! How much longer can we keep this up, Dawn? I know I can't live like this much longer. And Maxie would be better off with foster parents than he would with me."

"Don't you _dare_." Dawn grabbed Buffy's arm with her spare hand. "You promised we would all stick together, Buffy. Okay? What's done is done and there's no use breaking down about it now." She paused. "You haven't had your medication, have you?"

"Yes I have!" Buffy snapped. "Just because I can't bottle everything up anymore doesn't mean I'm crazy!"

There was a long silence, except for Maxie, who had started crying again. Dawn gave him his milk and he immediately quietened.

"I'm sorry," Dawn said. "I should have known one of us would break down at some point."

Buffy wiped her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"You can't give up hope, Buffy. Remember the Dream?"

"Yeah. The hope that someday I'll meet a nice guy with money who'll take us out of this nightmare." Buffy paused. "There's just one problem. How many nice guys do I meet in my line of work? And how many do I have the chance to meet outside my line of work?"

"There's always the odd nice guy who turns up."

Buffy remained silent. The nicest men she had met in the last few years were ones who had bowed to peer pressure rather than seeking her out under their own steam. Not exactly the ideal hero. But she didn't mention this to Dawn.

If they had to leave, she didn't know what she could do. Lady Luck was about as far as she could sink. How could they live any lower? How was she supposed to raise a baby and a teenager on the streets? But if she got killed or put in jail, what would happen to them then?

No, Dawn was right, she told herself. There was still a chance.

"We just got to take this a bit at a time," Dawn advised. "First of all, go to bed. You're exhausted. Forget going out. Then tomorrow, check out the detective agency and see if they're onto us. Then we take it from there. Okay?"

Buffy found her sister's free hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Dawnie. I don't know what I'd do without you."

* * *

Buffy slept the rest of the day and most of the night, during which Dawn sought out Katie and got her to cover for her. Monday morning, Buffy dressed again in her "office wear" and left for the detective agency.

She remembered the address and found a large office building with a sign outside reading _WOLFRAM & HART: Attorneys at Law_. A smaller sign next to it read simply _Angel Investigations_.

She had found it.

It was not quite nine o'clock yet. There was a woman sitting just outside of the reception on a bench, having a cigarette and a coffee. Buffy had picked up a free daily paper on the way, and now sat down casually next to the woman and buried her head in it. The woman ignored her.

Pretending to do up her shoe, Buffy placed a coin on the toe and straightened up again. Slowly she moved her foot over towards the woman and tipped the coin onto the floor.

"Excuse me," she said politely. "Is that yours?"

As the woman bent down to pick up the coin, Buffy slipped the woman's ID card off her jacket and pocketed it.

It was a photo ID, so Buffy took a trip to the nearest photo booth and then made her way to the DMV. One of the workers there was a regular client – and rather fond of her – and Buffy knew it would not take too much persuading for him to leave her alone there for a few minutes. She slit open the lamination on the ID, replaced the photo inside with hers and then borrowed the laminating machine that was used for driving licences.

Back at Wolfram and Hart, Buffy strolled right in with the new ID card on her jacket lapel, as if she had every right to be there. It was all about confidence. The security guard only glanced at her badge. Her eyes flicked to the floor plan on the wall, instantly memorising it, and then walked right up to the lift and pressed the Up arrow.

"Morning," she said brightly to the others in the lift. They all murmured greetings back.

Angel Investigations was on the top floor, along with the senior offices. Buffy stepped out of the lift and made a beeline for the room at the end, where she could see it was dark inside, signalling that it was empty.

It was full of filing cabinets. Buffy started searching for "Summers".

There was no entry under her name, so she tried under "W" for "Wilkins", and then "H" for "Hudson" – still nothing relevant to her, or Hudson's death. She gave up hunting through the paper files, and instead ventured out of the room.

The man who had been introduced to her as Roger was just leaving his office, stopping for a moment to confer with a woman slightly older than her. Buffy ducked out of his sight, and listened.

"I can't tonight, Wesley, you know my parents are in town," the woman said.

"I'm sorry, I forgot. Well, how about tomorrow after they leave? We could even perhaps get some Chinese after the show."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, okay. It's a date."

Roger/Wesley smiled genuinely. "That's settled then. I'll call you later, Fred."

"You'd better," she said cheekily, heading towards the lift. "Hey, do you reckon we've got time for a coffee break?"

"Of course. You know how long Angel will be with those files. We've probably got time for a three-course meal." They both laughed.

Buffy waited until the lift doors had closed on both of them before walking into his office.

She unpicked the locks of his desk drawers with a hairpin and hunted through his papers, but all she was able to find out was his real name and personal details. She turned his computer on.

It needed a password to log on as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Buffy considered, and typed his middle name from the papers. No go. His date of birth also yielded no result. Buffy remembered how he had looked at the woman in the corridor, and typed in "Fred". This time she hit the jackpot. It logged her in, and she started searching for any mention of her or the Hudson case.

Still no result. The rightful owner of the office could return at any point. The files could be hidden and/or encrypted – that would take forever. She had learnt some basic hacking skills from her old best friend Willow Rosenberg, but not enough to do the job quickly.

Buffy drew her last resort out of her pocket: a disc containing a virus, and inserted it into the drive. She hit "Ignore" on the alerts that popped up on the screen and hurried out of the room.

She missed the lovebirds on the way back down, and nobody stopped her from walking straight back out of the building as if she had never been there.

* * *

Spike Pratt groaned as he was awoken by a phone ringing. "What?" he grumbled, sitting up and reaching for the receiver. "Hello?"

"Spike, it's me." Angel's voice sounded pissed off. "What's the password for the company backup system?"

"Huh?"

"We've just got a virus that shut down the whole network, and you've changed the password again!"

"Oh, sorry." Spike thought for a moment. "It's Sex Pistols."

Angel gave an irritated growl. "Spike, I realise that this is _your_ company too, but I'm the official CEO and if you keep interfering -"

"Bloody hell, Angel, it was only a password."

"And another thing. We have a serious security breach. The virus was caused by somebody putting a disc in Wesley's machine."

"Well, that's your own fault, isn't it? You insisted on cutting back on the security budget."

"I had to! And I don't see you doing _your_ part to help out around here. Are you even going to give me your report on the Lady Luck case? And I bet you're just waking up, aren't you? It's ten-thirty. You don't know the meaning of hard work, so don't you dare criticise the way I run the company!"

Spike chose to ignore Angel's rant, knowing from twenty-odd years of experience that retorting would do more harm than good. "Wesley can give you the report. I don't work for you."

"He doesn't know what you managed to get out of that waitress – Hannah, was it?"

Spike felt his face grow hot. "Nothing useful. I mean, nothing useful for the case. Unless you want to start accusing the owners of running a brothel as well."

"They're doing what?"

"Look, it don' matter. Redford only hired you to prove that the games are fixed."

"Fine. You pursue that line of enquiry if you want." Angel paused. "Spike – did you actually _pay?_"

Spike chose that moment to hang up.

**TBC …**


	4. Knowledge

**Chapter Three: Knowledge**

An hour later, Spike was dressed and lounging in Angel's office chair with his feet on the desk, while Angel and Wesley poured over the security camera footage they had finally managed to extract.

"Pause it," Wesley said. Angel did so, and Wesley leaned in closer. "Who's that?"

"I don't know." Angel zoomed in on a figure just out of sight of Wesley talking to Fred. "She doesn't look familiar."

"What's she doing on that floor?"

Spike, engrossed in bending a paperclip into strange shapes, only looked up as Wesley said his name. "Spike, isn't that Hannah?"

"The waitress from the casino?" Angel asked.

Spike stared at the screen. "Bloody hell, it is. What's she doin' there?"

"Isn't it obvious? They're onto us," Angel snapped. "Well done, Spike."

"Hey! How do you know it was _me_ who blew our cover?"

Angel just looked at him.

"Oh, bugger off and stop picking on me. We're not in primary school now."

"Spike, leave it," Wesley said, stepping in as always.

Angel scowled. "How on earth did she get security clearance?"

"Face it, Angel, your boys are useless. They'd let in a bloke in a striped shirt and mask carrying a sack marked SWAG."

"It doesn't matter how she got in right now," Wesley jumped in. "Angel, we have a serious problem here. What do we do?"

"I could speak to Hannah again," Spike suggested.

"I think not," Angel replied.

"She's not the enemy in this, Angel, trust me. She's just acting out of fear for her job." Spike stood. "I'll go and talk to her – maybe I can get something out of her."

"Well, for goodness' sake, be careful!" Angel called after him. "Don't you dare endanger this investigation any more than you already have!"

"Angel, don't you think you're being a bit hard on him?" Wesley said after Spike had left. "It's not like he's not helping at all. And he _is_ your brother -" He broke off as Angel sent a glare in his direction.

* * *

"Look, I don't know, Dawn," Buffy said, ripping off the standard hotel staff bedclothes with one hand while she held the phone with the other. "I've wiped the server but they still know where I am. Damn it, where are my pills?"

"For goodness' sake, Buffy, forget your pills! You can get some more, just get _out_ of there!"

"I can't!" her sister moaned. "I've just got this bottle and I don't know how long it will take to find another supplier. I can't risk going back to Lewis in case I can be traced there -" She broke off as she spotted the bottle on the floor. "Aha! Found them!"

"Found what?" said a voice behind her.

Buffy whirled around. Leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom was the blonde detective, his arms folded and staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Uh, I gotta go," Buffy said quickly and hung up. "Hello, Joel." Her voice was steady despite her mind whirring. He was blocking the only door and the window was always kept locked. It was only single glazed, so she could theoretically break it, but there was a five-floor drop and nothing to break her fall. "You know, I'm not working at the moment, and besides, I'm supposed to meet with clients in the other rooms."

"Come on, Hannah, you know why I'm here. Care to tell me why you broke into Wolfram and Hart's offices this morning?" His tone, despite his words, was soft rather than accusatory.

Buffy looked him square in the eye, all hope of pretence gone. "Like you don't know."

"Okay, let's try this another way -" he began, but broke off as Buffy pulled out a revolver. His eyes widened and he slowly raised his arms.

"I really don't want to use this, _William_," Buffy said. "But don't think I won't. Now get back against the wall."

He backed into it sharpish. "Call me Spike. I hate William. And if you think killing me will solve your problems, pet, you've got another think coming."

"Don't call me 'pet', and _please_. You've already found me, it's not like I can still keep my job, is it? And I'm already wanted for murder, so one more dead body won't change that."

Spike's eyes widened. "You're _what?_"

Buffy blinked, her aim faltering. "What do you mean – you didn't know?"

"I'm not after _you_, Hannah! I'm after your bosses! Why would I be after you? I don't even know your surname!"

She slowly lowered the gun. "You're … not … after me."

"No, never was," he replied, seeming to relax a bit now the weapon was lowered. "Happy?"

Buffy swallowed. "No." She raised her gun again, her hands now starting to shake. "You know too much now. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" Spike appeared to be thinking fast. "Look, maybe we can come to some kind of deal here. I've met murderers, okay, and there's no way in hell you're one. I can see that. So whatever mess you're in, please, let me help."

She hesitated.

"I own half of Wolfram and Hart," Spike continued. "My brother's the CEO. If you let me go, I can get one of our best lawyers on your case."

Buffy stared at him. What mess could she possibly end up in worse than this?

She lowered the gun. Spike breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good. Look, come back to the offices with me, we can talk there."

She nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Buffy dialled Dawn's number as she climbed into Spike's car with him holding the door open for her. Although she believed him when he had said he wasn't after her – his reaction had seemed genuine – she decided to play it careful all the same and decided to avoid saying Dawn's name on the phone.

"It's me," she said when Dawn picked up. "Everything's fine, false alarm."

"Thank goodness." Dawn sounded stressed, and Buffy's heart ached as she heard Maxie crying in the background. "Is it okay to go back to the hotel then?"

"Stay where you are for now, okay? I'll come and find you two later. Love you."

"So," Spike said as she hung up. "You going to tell me your real name? I take it it's not Hannah."

"That would be correct."

"So, what is it?"

Buffy hesitated.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You know mine, and if we're going to help you then we need to know a bit more about each other."

"I agree," Buffy said. "You start."

He sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I know a few facts about you, but not much."

"Well, what do you know already?"

"You're real name's William Jeremiah Pratt and you're twenty-seven years old, born in London and have dual citizenship. You own half of the Wolfram and Hart law firm, and you work with, or for, Angel Investigations, and you have a little kid called Connor. I think you might be kinda creative. You smoke. Also, this cannot possibly be your car."

"How on earth do you know all that?"

"You had your passport and a shopping list in your suit pocket as well as your wallet."

He nodded. "Yeah, I just came back from visiting my parents. Not the point though."

"I have a photographic memory."

"Really? I've never met anyone with that before."

"I can remember all the details on your passport and on your shopping list. Your handwriting's quite messy which is supposed to signify creativity. And there was a photo of a kid in your wallet with "Connor" written on his baby blanket."

Spike gave an impressed whistle. "Wow. That's one heck of a gift you've got there. And by the way, Connor is my nephew."

"Ah well, I was close. Cute photo."

"Still don't get how you know this car isn't mine."

"It's a pretty crappy car and you earn enough to be able to afford a real fancy one."

"And you know that how?"

"You were carrying over four hundred dollars in cash and your credit card's a platinum. Doesn't take a genius."

He grinned. "Okay, you win. I get it. Yeah, the car's borrowed from a neighbour while mine's in the garage. Angel's too overprotective of the company cars to let me even touch one, even though technically I own half of them."

"Angel's your brother, right?"

"Yep. Sounds like you know enough about me already."

"Not enough," Buffy said, "to judge the kind of person you are. How do I know I can trust you?"

"All right, that's a fair point. But I'm guessing it won't take you too long to figure that out yourself. You could be a great detective, you know."

Buffy sighed. "I was."

"You were?"

"Yeah. Having this memory's useful but it's also been a curse."

"How so?"

"Two reasons. One, I can remember all the bad things in my life." Buffy paused, a lump in her throat. "In vivid detail."

"I'm guessing that can be painful," Spike said in a soft voice.

Buffy swallowed. "Yeah."

"And the other reason?"

"Being a detective was what got me in this mess in the first place."

Spike looked across at her. "What happened?"

Buffy sat up straighter in her seat. "Turn left."

"Oops." Spike braked and turned quickly into the car park. "Thanks."

Neither spoke as they made their way from the car into the building, except for Spike's "She's with me" to the security man. Once on the top floor, he approached a blonde woman sitting at a desk, absorbed in filing her nails.

"Angel busy, Harm?"

"Think he's waiting for you, Blondie Bear," she replied with a flirty smile. "He said for you to go right in."

Spike strode into the office, muttering something that sounded like "Thinks he's my bloody boss", and Buffy followed.

"Was that your girlfriend?" she asked, sounding more indignant than she had expected. After all, the guy had slept with her.

"What, Harmony? Hardly. Well, maybe once. But that was ages ago, and believe me when I say it didn't last long. Why'd you want to know, anyway?"

A voice saved her from figuring how to answer that question. "You two quite finished?"

Buffy and Spike looked over. The man who had spoke, presumably Angel, was sitting on his desk with his arms folded, frowning at them. He was about as handsome as his brother, although there weren't that many similar features, and his accent was different – slightly Irish.

"That's Angel," Spike said to Buffy.

"I guessed," was the reply.

"So," Angel said, unfolding his arms. "You must be Hannah?"

"This is her," Spike said.

Buffy shot him a glare. "Thanks, I can answer for myself."

"Just trying to solve your problem of whether to answer yes or no, pet."

Angel's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Hannah's not her real name," Spike explained.

"I see. And?"

Spike dragged a chair out from Angel's desk and motioned for Buffy to sit down. "And she needs our help."

Buffy looked questioningly at Angel, but he nodded for her to sit down, the frown gone. He made his way round to his desk chair while Spike pulled one out for himself.

"So. First things first," Angel said. "What _is_ your real name?"

Buffy hesitated, but now she was here, she felt a lot more comfortable and decided to answer honestly. "Buffy. Buffy Summers."

"What exactly do you need our help for?" Angel continued.

"Well, a decent lawyer would be a good backup," Buffy replied. "But if possible, protection."

"From who?" Spike asked.

"The cops," Buffy said. "The Mayor of Sunnydale. Any hit men or bounty hunters he's sent after me. Shall I go on?"

Angel shook his head. "Why are you wanted by the Mayor?"

"Cause if anyone actually believes my story," she replied, "he could go to prison."

"Wow. No wonder you carry a gun." Spike paused thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, where do you actually keep it? I never saw -"

"Trust me," Buffy interrupted. "You don't want to know."

Angel cleared his throat. "Getting back on track, why are you wanted by the police?"

"For murder."

There was a short pause. "Did you do it?"

"Angel!" Spike sounded near outraged.

"It's a fair question," Angel responded. "Buffy? Did you do it?"

"Well, technically – yes," Buffy replied.

**TBC …**


	5. Helping the Not Helpless

**Chapter Four: Helping the Not-Helpless  
**  
Spike spoke first. "No flipping way."

Angel shot him a glare.

"It was self-defence," Buffy added, albeit lamely.

"Self-defence, that's different," Angel said. "It's perfectly defendable."

Buffy gave a hollow laugh. "Only if I have a believable explanation of why I was in Mayor Hudson's office in the first place."

"Well, why were you there?" Spike asked.

Buffy sighed. "I was stupid. I was young and stupid. I was barely seventeen and I thought I knew it all." She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm good at detective work. And I've been doing all types of self-defence and martial arts since I was a kid; I thought I could handle myself. I'd always wanted to be a detective and I got involved in stuff, doing my own private investigations."

"At seventeen?" Spike sounded believably incredulous.

"Yeah, I know. But I managed it. I used my age to my advantage. There was a short piece on the local news about me once, after I got evidence for a murder that the police hadn't been able to get a warrant for. Red-tape stuff, you know. Then a while later, two guys knock on my door claiming to be from the FBI. I mean, they had ID and that, how was I supposed to know it was fake?"

"You weren't," Spike said. "You couldn't have known."

"Thanks," Buffy replied, "but it doesn't help the guilty feeling."

"What did they want?" Angel asked.

"They said Mayor Hudson was up to something unscrupulous and they needed me to get the evidence. They armed me and everything, as a precaution they said. I ended up in Hudson's office, with him aiming a gun at me." She swallowed. "I just pulled my trigger first."

"Self-defence," Spike said.

"Wish it were that simple," Buffy said with a small smile. "I panicked and hid his body, then contacted Trick and Leland. They told me to just go home and stay there, and let them sort it out. So I did. Then, two weeks later, Trick appears on the news as Richard Wilkins' representative."

"Who's Richard Wilkins?"

"Hudson's political rival. Elected the Mayor after Hudson was out the way."

"So you were set up," Angel said. Buffy nodded.

"Did you try telling the police what -" Spike began. Buffy shook her head.

"Couldn't. I panicked and tried to run – but Trick and Leland got my mom first." Her voice cracked and she took a few deep breaths. "I ran for it with my sister and ended up at Lady Luck. That's about it."

"I'm sorry," Spike whispered.

"Thanks."

Angel was staring into a corner of his office, his brow furrowed, obviously thinking hard. "You can't be blamed for running away. That sounds like a pretty tough situation."

"Hence the crappy career," Buffy said. "Can you help?"

He seemed to jolt out of his thought process. "I don't see why not. We're here to help the helpless, after all."

"Buffy's hardly _helpless_," Spike muttered. "A deadly weapon more like." Buffy shot him a glare, and he hastily added, "but in a good way."

"Let me rephrase that," Angel spoke a little louder. "Help people who need it."

"Are you speaking as a detective," Buffy said, "or the head of a law firm here?"

"Both. Either. It all depends on what you need. For the moment -"

"I'd say a job," Spike interrupted.

There was a short pause. Angel frowned at his brother. "Spike, could I speak to you for a moment outside, _please?_ Excuse us a moment, Miss Summers."

* * *

Once they were outside, Angel closed the office door and turned on Spike. "What exactly did you mean by that? Because if you meant what I think you meant, then you shouldn't be suggesting it without discussing it with me first."

"Meant by what?"

"Offering her a job here. At least, if that's what you meant."

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, why not?" As Angel's frown deepened into a glare, he continued, "Look, she's good. She's really good."

"At what, sex?"

It was Spike's turn to glare now, although the effect was ruined by the reddening face. "_No_. Well, yes, but that's not what I meant. I was talking about all the assets you look for in employees. Determination. Ingenuity. Resourcefulness. She's proved all of it. Martial arts skills. Plus she's got a photographic memory. That's got to be a clincher in any kind of detective work, surely?"

"She's a wanted fugitive, for crying out loud. Not to mention a -" Angel stopped himself, but Spike knew exactly what he meant.

"Well, so what? It's not like she's had much choice in the matter. She can hardly walk into a job centre and present her resume; if all the people she thinks are after her are still actively looking, she'll be dead within a week."

"She -"

"And it's not like she deliberately went out and made herself a criminal. It was a mistake. You remember what a mess Gunn was in when you met, and yet you employed him."

"Spike -"

"Come on, Angel, it's not just about Buffy. She's got a family too. A baby, like Conner."

"_Spike_ -"

"You could do a deal. We give her a job, protection and security for her family, and she helps us bring down the Lady Luck owners from the inside. She'd know how to get evidence."

"If you would just let me get a word in edgeways, Spike?" Angel finally snapped. Spike stopped talking. "Yes, I agree."

"What?"

"I said yes. You've convinced me. You don't have to keep rambling on."

Spike grinned. "So you _do_ listen to me sometimes. I should bake a cake for the special occasion."

* * *

"A job _here?_" Buffy repeated, stunned.

Angel nodded.

"Wow," Buffy whispered. "That's – are you serious?"

"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't," he replied, giving what Buffy suspected was a rare smile.

"I'm guessing detective work, right?" Buffy laughed slightly. "Since I'm no lawyer."

"Well, technically, there's a bunch of different jobs round here on offer," Spike spoke up from Angel's chair. "But yeah, he means a detective job."

"I can answer for myself, thanks," Angel muttered. "Anyway, yes, Buffy, a job in Angel Investigations. You said yourself you're good at investigative work, and my brother here thinks you've proved it."

For a moment Buffy felt a warm sort of glow, similar to the kind she remembered from being praised by a schoolteacher.

"You would also be a valuable addition to one of our current cases – that is, the one you met Spike on."

"Oh," Buffy said, remembering what Spike had said about the hotel owners. "Yeah, the games are fixed. All the staff knows it."

"This is my proposal." Angel cleared his throat. "You return to your current place of employment temporarily, and see if you can find any evidence that will stand up in court, while we sort out a place for you here."

Buffy nodded, unable to believe this was really happening. "Sure. I can do that. How long do you think it would take to sort out a place for me? 'Cause I assumed as you offered, there was a position available -"

Spike cut her off before Angel could. "There's no problem staff-wise hiring an extra detective, he means paperwork stuff. Your identity and everything."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Buffy asked, biting her lip. "I know I haven't got anything official -"

"That's what we'll be sorting out for you," Angel assured her. "We have the contacts and resources to set you up with a new identity, and your family too, as well as a background that checks out – school records, medical notes, you know. It's virtually undetectable as forgery."

"It's undetectable," Spike corrected. "He's only got to say 'virtually' to stop you suing him if someone finds you. The only way anyone could is by tracing somebody you were supposed to have known in your fake past and talking to them, which they would only be doing if they knew who you are already, so yeah, it's undetectable."

It took a moment for both Buffy and Angel to wrap their heads around his statement. "Well then, definitely yes," Buffy said, a genuine smile breaking out. "I accept, totally. This is more than I expected – hoped for – I don't know what to say -"

"Thank you works," Spike said helpfully.

* * *

"Dawn!" Buffy could barely contain her bubbling-over excitement as she rushed into the diner, spotting her sister and son at the corner table. "You're never going to believe it!"

"What? What happened?" Dawn asked. Buffy took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was in a public place and people were staring at her.

"It's good news," she said breathlessly, to calm her sister, and sat down. "Mind if I have some of that?"

"Sure." Dawn pushed the Coke can towards her and rescued a ketchup bottle from Maxie's grasp.

Buffy took a gulp of the drink and turned her attention to her son. "There's my boy! Guess where Mommy's been?" she cooed, picking him up and sitting him in her lap. A pang briefly occurred in her heart at the memory of his first word, but she pushed it aside. That wouldn't happen again. Everything was changing now. "Mommy's been checking out her new job."

"A new job?" Dawn echoed, her eyebrows raising. "You're kidding! What job? What happened?"

"You know that building a few blocks away from us; the law firm Wolfram and Hart?" Buffy said, and Dawn nodded. "Well, the guy that runs it, he's also got his own detective agency. It's not separate. They're kind of assimilated into each other. Anyway, it was his brother I met at the hotel."

"Go on," Dawn urged.

"Turns out they're after the hotel owners, about the fixed games? Anyway, they knew nothing about me, 'till I pulled a gun on Spike – the brother. The story all came out, and Angel – that's the boss – he's offered me a job at the agency."

"What's the catch?" Dawn frowned. Buffy understood. It did sound too good to be true.

"It's not instant, I've got to go to the hotel and get them something on my bosses first. But come on, Dawn, it's way more than we ever expected. And I haven't even told you the best bit."

"What's that?"

"A clean slate."

* * *

The detective opened the thin file and stared at the photograph for a moment. "Pretty girl. I can see why you want to find her. But I'm sorry, we don't really do domestic cases."

"It's not a domestic case, Mr. Stevens." The potential client was fairly young, mid to late twenties, with brown hair clipped short, camouflage trousers and jacket, and an expression that conveyed having heard it all before. "Buffy disappeared the day her home was blown up, by an unknown party. The police confirmed that the only fatality was her mother, Joyce. Buffy and her sister Dawn escaped the explosion and the only lead is an abandoned car they were seen driving off in."

"Look, pal," was the reply. "My heart bleeds for them, it does, but you haven't supplied anything that can be of use. I mean, one photo, her last school record and a bunch of eye-witness statements that were collected months after the event?" He dropped the file onto his desk. "Where's the police report, the crime scene photographs, the explosion evidence, missing persons details?"

"I haven't been able to get anything out of the police. All they ever did was identify what kind of bomb was used, which they wouldn't even disclose. If anybody ever reported sightings of Buffy or Dawn, they were never followed up."

"So you think they botched the case."

"Buffy and Dawn were never found, and nobody was ever arrested for the bomb. Ever. If they knew what kind it was, they would at least have had leads in the suppliers, but no." The client leaned forwards and looked Calvin Stevens straight in the eye. "I think it was more than botched."

"I'm sorry." The file was pushed back across the desk. "If it were a simple case of finding your girl and the bomber, I would help. But second-guessing the police is no longer my territory. Last time I took on a case for a client saying they screwed up, my client was set up for a crime that a corrupt cop committed, and I ended up shot in the backside. Straight-up criminals are my game. You want to accuse the police of corruption or pure incompetence? Try a detective who's come out of one of those cases triumphant."

"Call yourself a detective." The man, who had not even given his name yet, snatched the file back and turned to leave. "At least the other agencies I've been to tried."

**TBC …**


End file.
